


Until the Stars Grow Old

by Sioux



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:34:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sioux/pseuds/Sioux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Children of Earth story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until the Stars Grow Old

Until the Stars Grow Old

 

I love thee, I love but thee  
With a love that shall not die  
Till the sun grows cold,  
And the stars grow old...  
Bayard Taylor 

 

This story starts just before Jack meets up with Gwen at the end of “Children of Earth”. I don’t own them, no copyright infringement intended.

 

The small car drew to a halt in the car park, it’s dark blue bodywork gleaming in the late afternoon sunshine. Unusually for Cardiff it had been fine for the last few days although it wasn’t what might be called warm.

The man continued to sit in the driver’s seat, apparently studying the sign in front of him; “Thornhill Cemetery”.

Leaning his head back against the headrest he closed his eyes and sighed. This was stupid; he was being stupid! Feeling in the pocket of his greatcoat he checked the items there, like a nervous bestman on his way into church, then he picked up the flower which had lain on the passenger seat. It was the most perfect rose he had been able to find, its petals a dark red, each one as soft as swansdown. He ran his fingertip across the velvet edges but could barely feel the gossamer petals. And, most unusually with such a fine looking specimen, it had a dreamy, heady scent which he inhaled appreciatively. It really was a prince among roses. Such perfection of scent and vision had to have a downside and this was no exception; it had thorns like steel spikes. The man still held it tightly, unheeding of the blood flowing from his hand. 

He swung himself out of the sports car, slamming the door but not bothering to lock it. He didn’t actually care if the car was still there or not after he left the cemetery. It was a means to an end, nothing more.

He carried a map in his pocket but he didn’t need it, even though the last time he had been here was six months ago. The journey from the gate was engraved on his soul. 

One hand in his pocket the other swinging, holding the rose, he marched confidently passed the rows of grave markers towards the oldest part of the grounds. Here were where the original founding fathers were laid to rest. Not to be outdone, Torchwood had purchased a number of plots for the use of their employees. Those too far gone to make use of the cryogenic chambers anyway. Or those who hadn’t been able to get to the cryogenic chambers.

As he drew closer Jack could see the grave marker had been erected by the stonemasons. It shone, new and obvious, amongst the weathered stone of its older neighbours. Rhiannon had done a nice job of picking out a good one; variegated grey granite on the border and a deeper grey, highly polished, granite on the facing side. The writing, in gold and deeply incised, would be readable for decades, if not centuries. 

A pot of acid yellow chrysanthemums, the petal edges brown and dry, lay on it’s side on the grave, flanked by two very dead looking, childish handfuls of mixed flowers.

The funeral wreaths were long gone.

It looked like Rhiannon was bringing the kids to look after the grave, which gave Jack a measure of peace. He didn’t want to think of it becoming overgrown through neglect.

He knelt and righted the pot, then placed it and the dead flowers to one side. He placed his own floral offering at the foot of the headstone and said,

“Hello Ianto, it’s me.”

He traced the name, the stone cold and the gold paint a slighter rougher texture under his fingertips. Then he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the cool, smooth granite.

“I’ve missed you so much.” 

Finally he kissed the stone, wishing with all his might it was the still living inhabitant of the grave. Sitting back on his heels he addressed the stone,

“’Bet you wondered where I’d gone, didn’t you? I really needed to clear my head so I went travelling after your funeral. Rhi did you proud though, you had a beautiful send-off. Didn’t want to intrude, I stayed in the background. Rhi arranged it all with Johnny. Gwen and Rhys were there, so were some surprising people, Johnson, Lois Habiba, Bridget Spears, you even got some of the high-up members of the cabinet attending. Denise for one. The PM wasn’t there, don’t think Denise had given him permission.”

Jack smiled at his sour little joke thinking back on the scene, which, at the time, had felt like one of the darkest days of his life.

“I didn’t know what to do after that. I kept seeing your face everywhere I went in Cardiff. I could even see your face in the scruffy kids with their hoods up. I had to leave Cardiff so I went to London but I kept, kept…..” Jack’s voice faltered and broke. He stopped, unable to continue through the tears running down his face. He turned to sit on the grave, his back resting against the headstone, knees bent, head hanging down and hands dangling between his knees. Eventually he lifted his head up and continued speaking.

“Every blue eyed, blonde haired little boy I saw reminded me of Steven and what I’d done. I murdered my own grandson, Ianto. I gave the order and I stood and watched him die, killed by the sound wave I was feeding through his little body,” Jack sobbed.

“And now my daughter, my lovely Alice, is dying from the inside out. I kept going past her house and trying to keep an eye on her. A useless task really. She won’t acknowledge me and if she’d chosen to take her own life because of what I’d done would it have been cruel to stop her?” He stopped and wiped his eyes with his fingers. 

“She solved the problem for me though, she took off one night. Not managed to track her down yet. Think she had some help from the powers that be to do that so thoroughly. Don’t blame her, I’d want to get away from me too.

I wonder, would you still say you loved me, after that, my Ianto? Would you want a monster like me in your life?” 

He turned so he was leaning his side against the stone, his head pressed against its smooth, cold breast.

“I think you’d have more sense, my love. There, I’ve said it. It’s taken six months and your death to make me see how you changed me. How you made me a better man than I’ve ever been, made me care again, made me live again. But damn you Ianto Jones, it hurts! It hurts more than I could believe possible.” Jack sniffed hard. 

“I thought travel would stop the hurt. I went to Europe; France, Germany and you would have loved Italy! I could picture you feasting your eyes on the clothes shops, great suits over there. Why didn’t we ever go anywhere together, Ianto? Take a few days off and see somewhere new, together. Was that me? Me who didn’t like the word ‘couple’? Me, who couldn’t see what riches I had in my hands until they were torn away? Me, who couldn’t tell a dying man how much he was loved? How in God’s name could you ever love me, Ianto? Was that your legacy? I get your humanity even though I couldn’t give you any of my life essence. I tried, I did try you know? In that room when we were both dying with the fourfivesix looking on, then later, in the gym where we’d been laid out, side by side. I sent Gwen off on some errand and kissed your still, cold lips but nothing happened. I even tried again when you were coffined and waiting for the undertaker to bring you to the chapel, here, at Thornhill. I’ve managed to bring so many others back, but not you. Not this time. Something was stopping it, not that I really know how this works but I really felt like something was stopping it. Maybe you didn’t want any part of me anymore. Can’t even say I blame you. But I would have let you go, if you’d asked me to. I would have given you back your life then watched you walk away. As long as you were alive and happy, that’s all that would have mattered to me. You being happy and still living. You know if I could swap my life for your death I would, I’d welcome it.”

Jack stopped speaking, his fingers absently following the stonemason’s marks, tracing out Ianto’s birth and death dates. He pressed his head against the unforgiving surface, trying to find some warmth, some feeling of the man below him. But there was none, only the cold stone and rapidly sinking sun.

“I suppose this is it. I’ve really come to say goodbye. I’ve tried travelling to most places on this planet and I just can’t stop thinking about you or thinking I see your face in some stranger or your reflection in a shop window out of the corner of my eye.”

He delved into this pocket and brought out a neck chain with a strange pendant on the end. Two circles of grey metal, entwined, with the chain running through both.

“I’ve only ever seen one other pair of K’tarian bonding rings. These were dropped through the rift from a far distant place and time. The K’tarian civilisation died out long before life appeared on this planet. I’ve had them a long, long time. Legend has it that only a true soul mate can unlock these rings and separate them and the chain. I’ve let every being I’ve married try but none of them could do it. I have the strangest feeling that you would have managed it somehow.”

Jack played with the rings, twisting them around each other, the chain sliding between becoming dull and sticky with the blood from the cuts on his hand. His eyes closed as he whispered to the stone,

“I ache for you Ianto! I ache for the sound of your voice, the touch of your skin, a glimpse of your face. I want to hold you in my arms and tell you I care about you more than any other human being. I want you to fill this hollow place in my soul.”

He sobbed on the last word. Ianto had had a soul, of that he was sure. It was his own he didn’t know about. Taking a deep breath he rubbed a hand over his face, smearing his tears and composing himself.

“I’m meeting Gwen in an hour. She’s found my wristband in the wreckage of the Hub. I’m leaving Ianto. I need to get away from Earth, from everyone I know here for a little while. Maybe I’ll find the Doctor and travel with him. One thing is for sure though, if he can arrange a do-over, I will be able to tell you I love you before I go into Thames House but you’ll be miles away at the holding facility.”

Jack pulled back a patch of the grass on top of the grave immediately releasing the smell of sun warmed rich earth with a hint of decay as a base note, unheeding of how much soil went under his fingernails. Once he’d scooped out a big enough hollow he poured the chain in, followed by the rings then covered them up, patting the grass back into place.

“I was going to give you these after we’d dealt with the fourfivesix, watch you as you puzzled over them. They’re yours now. All yours, along with my heart.”

He turned and kissed the smooth cool marker.

“Goodbye my love. Sleep well.”

Standing, he backed away from the headstone, solemnly and respectfully bowed from the waist and strode away from the grave without looking back. He didn’t see a silent snake of light arc from the sky down to the stone, explore the rose then fasten on the uneven patch of grass and the rings and chain in their shallow resting place. The light flickered and pulsed, pushing down past the rings and chain, down to the wooden box, smearing the metal handles and decoration like it was putty in a child’s hands, even, mercifully briefly, illuminating the grinning corpse within, before dying away as quickly, quietly and mysteriously as it had arrived.

Within the box a sliver of muscle fibre parted from its collagen connective tissue both falling away from each other, relaxing and sinking towards the layer of coffin liquor gathered at the bottom. Then they stopped, and, like a film in reverse, moved back together again, the molecular bonds snapping back into place as if they’d never been broken. 

*******

Jack lay back panting, sweat gilding his skin. Hot breath gliding across his ribs.

“I never thought I would hear myself saying this, but, haven’t you had enough?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Hehehe. Jesting lover, I have to be on duty in five units,” his green skinned companion’s long, slightly rough, tongue slid gently over the liquid which had collected in Jack’s sternal notch. 

It tickled the human, but still felt pretty good. He ran his hand over the jagged green scalp horns, shifting his fingers down to brush against Laret’s shoulder blades. 

Laret arched his spine and hissed slightly.

“And you accuse me of being insatiable, human!”

Jack grinned and winked.

Laret dragged his tongue across Jack’s lips and stood, stretching and showing off his fine musculature.

“Will you be here when I get off duty?”

“Let that be a surprise,” Jack replied, after a second’s hesitation.

Laret snorted his wheezing laugh.

“Very well human Jack, I thank you for body pleasure. Repeating would be most acceptable.”

Jack nodded his head, protocol not demanding he do more than acknowledge Laret’s speech.

Laret replaced his minimal clothing and departed for his duty shift as second officer on board the ship. 

Jack checked the chronometer, seven ten units until Captain Hannan finished his shift, a little over seven hours, long enough to clean up and get some sleep. This wasn’t the first time Jack had worked his passage on his back, and it probably wouldn’t be his last. He’d actually worked his passage on the first two ships as an assistant engineer but he’d found that left him too much time to think.

He swung himself off the sleep platform and rubbed his face with his hand. The ship was kept at a temperature rather higher than comfortable for a human, which worked out well, as the Vannen Valdesi loved the scent and taste of human sweat. Another characteristic of the Vannen Valdesi was that they enjoyed sharing their pleasure companions, yet another plus in Jack’s book. 

Making use of the facilities Jack cleaned himself up, but not too well. Hannan would get a kick out of scenting Laret on him. He made sure he had the necessary stimulants ready and set his chronometer to wake him in time to be waiting for Captain Hannan in his quarters.

Deliberately keeping himself this physically exhausted worked in Jack’s favour, he’d slept very well aboard the Vannen Valdesi freighter; no dreams, no nightmares, or nothing he could remember in the next waking period at any rate. Forty ten units and the freighter would reach it’s destination, a heavily industrialised planet in need of the ore in the cargo holds. The ore was plentiful in the V Valdesi system. In return the Pthesh provided minerals, pleasure companions and holiday makers. Vannen Valdesi had the ambient temperature of a low oven, which the Pthesh found refreshing after their cooler environment. Both species as pleasure loving as each other and as peaceful. Jack intended to make a longer stay on Pthesh, there were a few old friends he wanted to look up.

Sighing he settled his head onto the long roll which served as the equivalent of a pillow. Between one breath and the next he was asleep. For a long time there was only grey as he slept. No dreams, no images, no memories. The grey shifted, eddied and swirled, like fog seen though a low light. Sounds intruded on his exhausted, hard won silence. Sounds he didn’t really want to hear. A voice, a high, childish voice was calling him. 

“Uncle Jack! Uncle Jack!”

Steven. That was a voice he didn’t want to hear again, didn’t deserve to hear again. 

A few seconds of whispering, two voices; one adult, one child. Words he couldn’t quite make out but the cadence of the adult’s tone reminded him of a Welsh accent then the child’s voice returned,

“Grandad!”

No! That was wrong. He and Alice had decided never to tell Steven his real relationship with the child. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the voice. Faintly, so faint he almost missed it, the adult voice said,

“Jack!”

Jack gasped and awoke, his heart hammering against his ribs, tears coursing down his cheeks.

“Ianto,” he whispered softly, his heart aching to hear those tones again. Memory could be so cruel at times. His mind had conjured the lilt and pitch of his dead lover’s voice perfectly.

Savagely he scrubbed at his face smearing tears away. It was nearly time to move anyway. Fastening the waist sash and attaching it to the shoulder sash, he downed the stimulant pills and left Laret’s quarters. The V Valdesi were big on not covering their natural form and they appreciated passengers who held with their customs. 

Almost total nudity at all times wasn’t a problem for Jack.

He ate in the crew’s mess hall. A nutritious porridge was on offer, a little bland for human tastes but it stopped any hunger pangs. The medical officer on duty stood over Jack whilst he consumed over a litre of slightly flat tasting water with his food. 

On first encountering the Valdesi, Jack had found it strange that they employed the medics as food preparation and serving staff. But, given then number of different species on every ship, added to the care they lavished on every off-worlder they transported, it became obvious that ensuring all species ate the correct food and ingested the correct amount of fluids whilst onboard did fall under the medical protocols.

The doctor nodded happily as he obediently emptied the large beaker.

Jack bowed from the waist as he said,

“This one appreciates your care.”

The doctor’s eyes passed over him as he answered,

“Appreciated. This one would enjoy spending a half ten unit with you. If acceptable.”

Jack grinned. Another conquest.

“This one would be pleased to accept. Next available is in twenty ten units.”

The doctor leaned forward, as did Jack, both touching foreheads, hands resting on each other’s shoulders.

“JJ4D, is this one’s space,” the doctor replied.

“This one will wish the units shorter,” Jack replied, the words coming easily.

They embraced again, then the doctor moved on with his work. No problems with dating your doctor onboard this ship!

 

Captain Hannan was an older Valdesi, he preferred less energetic and more sensual bed sports, which were just as satisfying for Jack.

After they had come to mutual satisfaction several times, the Captain settled on the floor for his meditative state, which passed for sleep among the Valdesi, Jack turned on his side and prepared to sleep too.

Sometime later Jack came to with the touch of Hannan’s hand on his forehead and his soothing voice exhorting him to awake.

“Is there a problem, Captain?” he asked sleepily.

“You were crying out in your unconscious state, you appeared most distressed,” Hannan replied, still stroking Jack’s forehead.

Jack sat up, dislodging the Captain’s hand.

“This one apologises for disturbance of Pronofee state,” Jack muttered.

The Captain waved his hand to indicate this wasn’t necessary.

“You cried out for one named Yanto, heavy distress,” Captain Hannan said.

Jack tried to smile but failed.

“Companion of the heart,” he finally explained.

The Captain waived a hand, an order for him to continue.

“Companion of the heart, no longer on this plain.”

“Ahh! And Steven?”

Jack closed his eyes.

“Second level product of the body, also no longer on this plain.”

The captain nodded sagely, his shiny black eyes blinking slowly, a gesture of compassion.

“This one can take the pain of memory away from you.”

Considering the offer for no more than several seconds Jack looked the Captain in the eye,

“This one would be extremely grateful for that service.”

”This one would be happy to oblige,” the Captain replied, placing his digits at various points over Jack’s skull. The human Jack would remember both Yanto and Steven but only the happier times, nothing left to distress.

Jack was more than grateful, his supplies of retcon had been buried in the Hub and he hadn’t had the materials and labs to knock up any more.

“Sleep, human Jack, sleep,” Hannan murmured, pressing Jack back to the sleeping platform.

When Jack fell back into a deep sleep Captain Hannan didn’t move away immediately, instead he sank down to the floor but did not resume his interrupted meditative state. The memories of human Jack which he could read were immersed in sadness, self-loathing and guilt. The names for the emotions may have been alien to Hannan but he could recognise the states of being they represented. For all their pleasure loving and somewhat hedonistic general lifestyle, the Valdesi were a spiritual people. Hannan knew Jack’s frantic pleasuring was his attempt to forget his great sorrow. Although having scanned the memories stored Hannan knew that whatever had woken Jack hadn’t carried the same signature as a memory. The Valdesi word for this was Cas-si-lay. Companions of the heart sometimes developed it between each other, if they had bonded deeply enough. It was extremely common between first level products of the body and their progenitors. Hannan laid his digits on Jack’s head again, effortlessly searching for and finding the human term from Jack’s mind. Ah, there it was; intuition, or, more accurately, psychic link.

Hannan remained seated on the floor thinking, until he slowly descended into Pronofee. Sometimes this state provided more answers than a straight forward assault at the problem would provide.

By the time Hannan returned to normal functioning human Jack had left his quarters. No matter, he could be found easily enough.

 

Jack wasn’t unduly worried by his summons to the Captain’s quarters about fifteen hours before they were due to land, after all, that was how he’d managed get passage on the freighter. He was confused though when Hannan welcomed him as courteously as ever but led him to the communications consul rather than the sleeping platform.

“Human Jack, please.” He gestured to a stool in front of the screen whilst he himself stood to one side. “This is Canas, Canas this is Jack Harkness.”

The figure on the screen smiled and nodded.

“This one is honoured to meet you, Jack Harkness.”

“This one is undeserving of such attention,” Jack replied. He really was extremely surprised to be introduced to a High Priest of the Order of Mar-Yam. “How may this one serve you, High Priest Canas?”

“This one is to serve you, Jack Harkness. Hannan, please tell Jack Harkness of your findings.”

The order was veiled as a request but still Hannan bowed low to the screen before turning to Jack.

“When I offered to brush distress from your memory I found no memory.”

Jack frowned in confusion.

“I do remember Steven and… and Ianto, very well, indeed.”

Hannan bowed again. “This one apologises, for confusion. Your memories of your companion of the heart and second level product of the body are intact. The distress was not caused by a memory, it was a communication, a message.”

“Who from?”

“From the second level product of the body.”

“No!” Jack shook his head. “No, that’s not possible!”

The Valdesi on the screen gave a serene smile as he said,

“In Mar-Yam we find the Universe is a place of miracles, small and large. This one understands both second level product and companion of the heart are no longer on this plain. Hannan believes second level product wishes to communicate with you across the plain.”

Jack felt sick, tears filling his eyes and falling, unnoticed, down his cheeks and dripping from his chin.

“I… do not believe there is anything after this existence, High Priest Canas, but, if there were, I’m the last person Steven would want to communicate with,” he whispered. “I mean no offence High Priest, but you’re wrong.”

Hannan looked extremely uncomfortable at Jack’s bald reply but Canas appeared totally unfazed.

“This one apologises for distress,” Canas said softly, recognising the signs of the human’s raw and painful grief. “This one would like to make an offer.”

Jack sniffed hard and looked up at the screen giving tacit permission for Canas to voice his offer.

“When freighter on world, this one requests that Jack and Hannan meet at Temple of Mar-Yam for Ceremony of Talking Across the Plains. If this pair are in error,” Canas said, gesturing to Hannan and himself, “Then this pair apologise for pain caused and Jack Harkness is invited to live in Temple of Mar-Yam when on Pthesh.”

Jack blinked. Being invited to the temple to take part in any kind of ceremony was quite an honour; to be invited to live there was incredible. It meant one thing.

“Canas is so very sure?”

“This one is very sure,” he replied. “If second level product communicates, then distress will diminish and we will have message from across the plain.”

Jack closed his eyes, anguish in every line of his face and body. He could say no and nothing more would be said. But he would be forever wondering if there really was something after this life. Something which he had never glimpsed, not once, in all the times he had died. Half of him was screaming to find out if Ianto and Steven were in a better place, the other half was sneering in contempt. If Steven was having an afterlife why the hell would he want to speak to the man who had taken his physical life? What would he want to say to him? Nothing good, he was sure. The less worldly part of his psyche pushed at him. If there was something after, didn’t Steven deserve to say his piece? If taking part in this ceremony could give the child’s soul, essence, spirit, whatever, the relief it craved then he was definitely the last person to deny him this. If nothing happened, it would only reinforce his own sterile, atheist belief in nothing more.

He nodded.

“This one will count is as high honour to take part in Ceremony,” he said, unusually stumbling a little with the Valdesi syntax.

“Canas will wish the units shorter.”

Hannan and Canas bowed to each other then the communication screen went blank. Jack continued to sit on the stool.

Hannan regarded the human, compassion flaring in his gaze. He could almost see this human’s spirit shredding before his eyes.

“Human Jack is welcome to this space for remainder of journey.” Diffidently he added, “This one can give human Jack peace in those units.”

Jack looked up at Hannan.

“This one thanks Hannan but is not sure if technique will be successful.”

In an almost human shrug Hannan gestured to the sleep platform. 

Settling against the padded neck rest he allowed Hannan to place three of his stubby digits at various points on his face whilst his other hand touched points on his scalp. He breathed out slowly and closed his eyes, trying to relax and help Hannan to help him.

Jack let the touch continue for a couple of minutes then opened his eyes, about to say he didn’t think it was working only to find Hannan standing several feel away dressed in a shimmering pale blue temple robe with a second one over his arm.

“This one welcomes you to Pthesh, human Jack,” he said smiling and offering Jack the robe.

Something to store for future reference, Jack thought, accepting and donning the full length robe, Vannen Valdesi sleep techniques worked extremely well on him.

 

The trip to the temple of Mar-Yam was undertaken in the traditional way – on foot. Hannan didn’t appear to be affected much by the humidity, which made the temperature seem higher than it was, the same could not be said for Jack. He arrived at the temple gate soaking in sweat and so thirsty he could have stomached a gallon of the flat recycled water served on board the freighter without blinking.

Canas met them just beyond the gates, standing inside the garden of peace, a traditional feature of the temple. The rich scent from the plants in the garden swirled and surrounded them in an almost narcotic manner as they made their way forward.

Jack was surprised when he first laid eyes on Canas; he was tall. There were few Valdesi who were as tall as Harkness, but Canas was a shade taller. His skin was a deeper green too, with fewer darker splotches around the head and neck area. The blue of the robe made an odd contrast with his skin colour. 

Hannan and Canas bowed to each other, then Jack bowed to Canas. Smiling, Canas led the way forward, through the garden then under an arch which ran with water. Canas and Hannan simply walked slowly under the shower of sweet water, Jack stopped and held his head up to let the liquid run across his face and down his body, swilling away the dust and sweat, making him feel fresher than he had in quite a while.

By the time he exited the shower, Canas and Hannan were waiting and their robes were completely dry.

“That, was glorious!” Jack told them both.

Canas blinked slowly and nodded his head in restrained but not unkind amusement. 

“Refreshments are available inside the temple, Jack, please follow me,” he said gently.

Inside one of the doctor/caterers came forward, he offered Jack a large beaker of the sweetest tasting water Jack had ever encountered, with instructions to drink it all. Then Jack was led off to a side chamber by another priest, the procedure explained to him and he was asked his choice; to go ahead or to leave.

As far as Jack was concerned at this point, there was no choice. On his acceptance the previous doctor then entered, he insisted Jack should be more hydrated before the ceremony began, which was duly done, then he himself administered the small glass of purplish liquid. Surprisingly it tasted like a rather fine port wine. Instead of gulping it down quickly Jack sipped it with pleasure. After handing back the glass he was led back into the main chamber. A comfortable looking chair was now in the centre of the room with priests and acolytes lining the walls. The doctor ushered him to the chair, indicating he should sit. Once he was comfortable, Canas, sitting behind, lowered the chair’s angle to that he could place his fingers at various points on each side of Jack’s face.

The pleasant drink had relaxed Jack so he wasn’t too worried when the room around him seemed to become rather less substantial, and much emptier. Even when he could feel the comforting weight and heat of his old RAF greatcoat on his shoulders, shoes on his feet and layers of clothes on his body he didn’t think it too odd. When Steven ran towards him he bent down and caught him, hugging him hard. The feel of the boy in his arms, his warmth and the scent of his hair and his clothing was so real. Steven wound his arms around Jack’s neck and hugged him back.

Jack was whispering into the boy’s hair, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” over and over again.

Steven pushed him back but Jack wouldn’t let go, he didn’t want to see the accusation and hurt on the child’s face. 

When he couldn’t free himself Steven said clearly into Jack’s nearest ear, 

“Granddad, you need to get to Ianto.”

When he heard that Jack froze then slowly and carefully leaned back, away from the boy.

“You seemed so real,” he said sadly looking at his face and smoothing the blonde hair straight again.

“I am real!” Steven protested.

“No,” he replied, broken hearted. “You can’t be. This must be an hallucination, just a dream.”

Steven brought his hand back and slapped Jack’s face with all his might.

“Did that feel like a dream?” he asked.

Jack’s eyes were wide open, staring at his grandson.

“I know you kept going past Mum’s house to make sure she was OK after I’d gone. She left the house and she’s gone somewhere else but she won’t speak to you and she really misses me.”

Jack nodded in agreement, his eyes tearing up again.

“Before you left Earth you went to Ianto’s grave and put a rose on it. A red one. You buried K’tarian bonding rings in his grave with him.”

“I know all this, this is my mind supplying the details.”

“Ianto is the one who told me you’re my grandfather not my uncle.”

“I know I’m your grandfather.”

Steven sighed in frustration.

“You’re at the temple of Mar-Yam on Pthesh. High Priest Canas is seeing this too. His first level product of the body is joining the order. You don’t know that but you can ask him later. Remember to ask him.”

Jack nodded.

“I don’t have much time, you need to get Ianto out of his grave or he’s going to die again.”

“What?” Jack was a little horrified at the thought of digging up his lover who had been buried for over a year.

“He’s coming back to life. If you don’t he’ll suffocate and die again.”

“How is that possible and how do you know who Ianto is?”

“Ianto was with me for a little while after he died,” Steven replied. “Then he started to feel bad and strange then he left me.”

“How do you know where he’s gone?”

“I asked. I like Ianto, he’s nice.” Steven looked over his shoulder as he replied,

“I’ve got to go now.”

“Where are you going? Will you be alright?”

“I’ll be fine. If you love him you’ve got three days to go and find him,” Steven said, beginning to walk away then he stopped and came back to whisper,

“It’s not all darkness and nothing after. They won’t let you see because they think it would be cruel to you.”

Steven stepped back from his grandfather and faded from his sight.

Jack opened his eyes with a gasp, back in the temple of Mar-Yam. He turned to look at Canas who was looking just as surprised as Jack.

“Is it true? Is your son joining the order?” Jack asked.

“First level product has become a novice two ten units since,” Canas admitted. “Regeneration is not common in your species?” he asked.

“No, not common at all,” Jack replied.

“You and companion of the heart must indeed be blessed.” Canas bowed and signalled for the assembled company to leave the room.

Jack lay back in the chair. He was thousands of light years from Earth. There was no way he could get back in time to lift Ianto out of his grave, if that was indeed a possibility. Something Jack was now inclined to believe it may be.

“Human Jack, may this one assist in any way?” Hannas asked.

“I’ve got three days to get back to Terra in the twenty first century. I can’t do that!” he cried out in anguish.

“Is there no-one on Terra in that era who can help you?”

Jack thought for a moment then smiled, 

“Yes, yes there is.”

 

******

“I can’t believe this!” John muttered, making his way through the heavy rain, towards dusk, in a Cardiff graveyard. He glanced at the piled grey clouds in the hills above the city. Didn’t look like the rain was letting up anytime soon.

“Who the hell keeps his dead lover’s DNA profile on his wristband anyway?”

Still John dutifully scanned each grave in the section until he hit one with a grey granite marker, well kept with fresh flowers. In fact, a veritable little garden of seasonal flowers planted on top. The profile matched, almost perfectly. John frowned when two peaks appeared where there shouldn’t have been two peaks. It was near enough though for a 99.2 % match.

John sighed seeing the date of death on the gravestone. A year, just over. If Jack was wrong about this then he’d be digging up a year old stinking corpse. Eye Candy looked great alive, being dead converted him into any other piece of rotting meat.

John could hear the stream swirling malevolently alongside the graveyard, the rain having swollen it to mighty proportions. Ever present rift energy sparked in the rain as well. So, it was a rift storm. That would account for the five days of continuous rain. The ground around was soaked, the water table pretty near the surface. John grinned as an idea formed. He looked around for an area of high ground and found it on the roof of the chapel. Pulling himself up onto the tiles he pressed several buttons on his wristband. The ground underneath him shuddered then stopped. The small streams of water flowing between the graves increasing until they became a deluge; fast running and destructive, building quickly and uprooting grave markers and gouging out tracks in the earth. As more and more water gathered force it dug deeper into the ground. The plants and flowers on Ianto’s grave went without a fight. As the streaming water flowed fast and hard whole areas of soil were swept away. Safe on his perch John laughed as several coffins from one grave were uncovered then swept out into the rivers of water. One by one the graves were uncovered and gave up their dead unto the torrent. Ianto’s grave was one of the last as he was the only occupant and so was buried deeper. John caught a brief glimpse, as the coffin broke apart, spilling its contents to the muddy swirling water. For a year old corpse Ianto looked bloody amazing. Even more so when he weakly flailed his arms to turn over so his face was clear of the liquid mud.

“Shit!” John swore. Harkness hadn’t been having space delusions. The bugger really was alive in his grave.

For a second he was tempted to leave Eye Candy to fend for himself but then he remembered how inventive Jack could be when he wanted to make a point. He was going to have to find Ianto and get him out of the water, preferably before Jack got back to Earth.

It was several hours later and three and a half miles downstream when Captain John finally closed in on his quarry. He’d been washed up onto the bank, the remains of some of his previous neighbours scattered nearby. John turned him over. Through his rotted suit, surprisingly enough, his skin was only lightly scraped. John touched his neck and chest. Ianto was breathing, after a fashion, and had a heartbeat. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the water and soil were teeming with bacteria and Ianto’s breathing was already uneven and congested.

“Bugger!” John swore softly under his breath as Ianto coughed, deep and harsh.

He stank of death and decomposition, the once impeccable suit he was wearing, frail and coming apart in long strips before his eyes. Through the rents he glimpsed a couple of beetles trying to scurry soggily away from the air and liberal coating of slime which covered everything; the bank, the bodies and Ianto.

Well, he decided, he was only willing to harbour the one stray, not several, until Jack came to stake his claim. Ianto wasn’t really responsive so John got him to an almost upright position, supporting him heavily then took a good hold on the collar of his shirt. All the fabric disintegrated most satisfactorily under his hands. He tossed it into the water along with a few insectoid hangers on who were desperately trying to find out what had happened to their delicious, decaying, food source. This was far too fresh. Pulling Ianto’s arm across his shoulder and holding it there, he operated his wristband.

The fox keeping out of the way of the water a few feet away looked on as the muddy naked human, in crumbling socks and shoes, disappeared into a nebulous cloud with the other fully dressed human. This display only reinforced his opinion that humans were extremely odd.

John materialised them spot on inside his bathroom of the apartment he’d taken over. It was a novel experience for him, having somewhere he could actually call home. Not that he’d bothered putting any money down for it, of course. He’d simply altered a few records in the right places and, hey presto! he was the legal owner of a very nice place in North West London.

He manhandled Ianto into the large shower stall and set it going on full. Apart from flinching a little before the water warmed, he showed no reaction. Letting him lean against the wall whilst he disposed of the filthy footwear he returned to see a long muddy smear down the wall and Ianto in a crumpled heap under the pounding water.

John took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he began to disrobe.

“You know Eye Candy, this would be a lot more fun if you were even slightly more awake,” he said conversationally as he opened the stall and got in with the other man. Ianto coughed in reply.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Jack would probably try to kill me.”

He set to, washing and scrubbing Ianto’s hair and body until he was clean and very much sweeter smelling. It was like taking care of a giant baby, John decided. He wasn’t uncooperative, Ianto just didn’t seem to be very aware. One thing John couldn’t understand was his clenched left fist. He tried for a couple of minutes to get him to relax it but failed. Finally, in desperation he held Ianto’s head and said,

“Are you in there, Eye Candy? Come on, open those baby blues, for me?”

Ianto slowly opened his eyes, his gaze wandering across John’s face without recognition. Even when John held up a finger trying to get him to track it he only did so for a short time before he drooped sleepily again.

Dispiritedly, as he dried himself and Ianto off, John wondered if Ianto had become brain damaged. Unable to stay awake for more than a few seconds, the clenched fist, low level of responsiveness. Uncomfortably he wondered if during his headlong flight down the river, he’d been hit on the head. There had been some fair sized lumps of wood flying past in the torrent. Perhaps diverting the deluge through the graveyard hadn’t been the brightest course of action he decided, on reflection, as he tipped the other man into his own bed.

Looking down at the sleeping man he carefully turned him onto his side, approximating the recovery position. Better be safe than sorry. He left the door open and, making up the spare bed he fell into it, more or less asleep as his head hit the pillow. It had been a long, action packed night, after all.

A couple of hours after dawn the repetitive sound of coughing broke through his exhaustion. Dragging himself to his feet John put his head around the door of Ianto’s room. 

Ianto was certainly more animated but much less awake. He threw open the blinds so he could see properly. The man in the bed was bathed in sweat, his head moving restlessly on the pillow and he was muttering unintelligibly under his breath. Every few seconds a hacking cough would tear through him leaving him breathless. Two hectic spots of bright colour burned high on his cheeks. An absolutely dreadful case of bronchitis or pneumonia? He leaned down touching the other’s man’s forehead. He had a hell of a temperature. Firstly he needed to get that down before he really did get brain damaged. Filling a bowl with tepid water and detouring to the bomb site of a bathroom for a washcloth and to put his trousers on, he returned to the bedroom. Sitting on the side of the bed he set the bowl on the bedside table and began to sponge Ianto down. Old fashioned but still pretty effective. If all else failed he could sit him under the shower for a while. The other thing to do would be to get fluids into him. After a bit of trial and error he found flat coke seemed to go down well, if offered through a straw.

A few hours later John knew Ianto needed more medical help than he could give him. Taking the short cut he hacked into the emergency systems using his wristband technology and called an ambulance then he fetched a t-shirt and old pair of shorts and dressed Ianto which was a bit of struggle. When the t-shirt was finally on Ianto’s eyes suddenly opened wide. For one heart-stopping moment John thought he’d died again he was so still, then he resumed his erratic breathing and coughing but he turned his head towards the door.

“What is it? Can you hear something?” he asked. 

He was most surprised when Ianto replied clearly,

“Jack’s here.” 

John had a sudden impression of rumpled clothing, unshaven face and terrified eyes as Jack strode into the room, ignoring John completely he sat on the edge of the bed and very, very gently gathered Ianto into his arms. Ianto putting his arms around Jack’s neck for as long as he had the strength.

Outside John could hear the ambulance siren’s drawing closer.

“Jack, he’s very sick. He needs a hospital,” John said softly.

Jack nodded. He could hear Ianto’s heart and lungs labouring to work as well as feel the unnatural heat radiating from his body. Tenderly he lowered Ianto’s head to the pillow stroking his face. He feasted his eyes on the beloved face, never having expected to see him living again. Even so ill he looked beautiful to Jack. Reaching for his other hand, he held it to his lips and kissed his knuckles. Magically his hand relaxed, releasing what Ianto had been holding onto. Jack looked down as Ianto poured the grey metal rings and chain into his palm. The two rings were separated as was the chain.

“Aren’t those your K’tarian bonding rings?” John asked, knowing very well what they were having coveted them for a long time.

Jack nodded then swiftly put one of the rings onto Ianto’s finger, the chain around his neck, finally slipping the other ring onto this own finger as the ambulance crew knocked heavily on the door.

******

Sitting beside Ianto on an uncomfortable hospital chair waiting for all the drugs which had been pumped into him to work their miracle, Jack turned to John and said quietly,

“Thank you. I won’t ever forget this.”

“Ever is a long time for you,” John remarked taking a swig of plastic coffee from a plastic cup and pulling a face.

“I mean it. I didn’t know who else to turn to but you came through for me.”

John nodded, uncomfortable with the seriousness in Jack’s voice and demeanour. And, if the truth were told, he was even more uncomfortable with his appearance. In all the time he’d known Jack he had never seen him look so unkempt and desperate.

“Eye Candy certainly didn’t want to part with the rings to anyone but you. How come you put them in his coffin?”

Jack cast a puzzled look at John before he answered shortly, 

“I didn’t. I buried them in the top of his grave, nowhere near his coffin. I thought you had found them and given them to him.”

John shook his head.

“He had his fist clenched around them when I found him, wouldn’t let go until you came into the room. If I had found them, I wouldn’t have been giving them up to anyone else but you.”

After a few moments silence John asked,

“You didn’t separate them either, did you?”

Jack shook his head.

That was some seriously weird shit, John thought to himself later on. Jack apart, dead men didn’t usually come back to life, much less come back having completed a bonding task. Surreptitiously John scanned both men from his position by the door then compared those readings with the one he had taken in the graveyard and the DNA profile Jack had sent. The anomaly in Ianto’s profile was still there but now John knew where it had come from. It matched a part of Jack’s DNA profile. Somehow Jack had incorporated some of his DNA in Ianto’s genetic code. How, he had absolutely no idea, but, given Jack’s inability to die, Ianto’s return to the land of the living now made a little more sense. 

“Why were you so far away when Eye Candy came back?” he asked curiously.

“I didn’t know he was coming back,” Jack replied honestly. “He died in my arms and I’d seen him buried and I didn’t have a clue he could come back.”

Curiouser and curiouser, John thought, no nearer to knowing how the genetic codes had become mixed but knowing now Jack hadn’t done it on purpose. He decided to keep his knowledge secret, for now, at least. It would be interesting to see if Ianto had come back, all the way back. Apart from the two words, “Jack’s here”, he hadn’t said anything else.

*****

 

For three days Ianto drifted in and out of consciousness. He vaguely smiled at Jack whenever he caught sight of him but he didn’t speak, then again he didn’t seem upset when Jack kissed his cheek or his forehead so the chances were good he sort of recognised him. The oxygen mask prevented any lip to lip contact.

Towards morning of the fourth day Ianto woke, his right hand anchored somewhere warm. The room was dimly lit but it was enough for him to see Jack slumped at the side of his bed, his back at an awkward angle. Carefully pulling his hand from under Jack’s chest he used it to caress Jack’s hair, gently coaxing him awake. He pulled the oxygen mask away and said,

“Jack, get up on the bed.”

Jack was bleary eyed from lack of sleep and worry.

”Wha?”

“Get up on the bed, your back is going to be killing you,” Ianto said softly, still stroking Jack’s hair.

His hair was a longer than he’d ever known it and felt a little greasy but, he supposed, looking at the bewhiskered face, Jack hadn’t had too much time to get cleaned up.

“Trying out a new look?” he asked, scratching a little at the beard.

“Ianto? Oh Ianto!” Jack muttered reaching out to the man in the bed. 

Ianto obligingly and carefully moved himself across the bed as Jack settled himself, his arms never leaving Ianto. He felt sore enough to imagine he’d gone several rounds with a large Weevil.

As Jack manoeuvred them both he gently touched Ianto’s several day’s growth.

“And you should talk about a new look.”

Ianto put his hand up to feel.

“Mmm.”

Jack grinned then leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss didn’t last too long because Ianto began to smile. Two activities which were mutually exclusive.

“What?” Jack asked.

“It … feels odd,” Ianto finally replied.

“You’ve never kissed anyone with a beard before?”

“No, I didn’t tend to date women with facial hair!” Ianto said, still smiling.

“You should have met some of mine. The women of Nysterol six, beards down to their breasts before they are allowed to date. Gorgeous girls, every one of them!”

Ianto laughed but then turned serious again as Jack’s lips and tongue were seriously applied to his.

After a few minutes Ianto broke off the kiss, mainly to breathe then he stopped and seemed to do an internal check looking down the bed between them as he did so.

“Ianto?”

Ianto sniffed and said,

“I think I’ve got somebody else’s.”

Jack grinned, his teeth showing very white against the grey flecked beard.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got enough for two,” he replied suggestively.

Ianto nearly choked on his laughter.

 

Mindful that his lover had just awoken from a bout of pneumonia Jack was very gentle, holding his passion in check and telling Ianto not to worry about his lack of reaction below, it would return when his body was rested. And, despite the pleasant stimulation, Ianto soon succumbed to sleep once again. 

Jack spent a long time just looking at his sleeping face. He was unable to believe that Ianto was warm, alive and in his arms again. It felt like a miracle. Jack was really afraid to close his eyes as his exhausted body and mind were insisting, in case this was the best and most realistic dream of his life. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, one second he was awake and the next he was waking up in a panic when he was alone in the bed.

“Ianto,” he whispered. Then louder, “Ianto!”

Faintly from the other side of the room he heard, 

“I’m here!”

Looking across he saw Ianto exiting the bathroom holding onto his IV stand, a nurse helping him back towards the bed. He was shuffling along like an old man, his chest heaving with the effort. Jack could hear the nurse gently chiding him,

“I could have got you a commode, Mr Jones. I don’t want you to have a relapse because you’re doing too much too soon.”

“I needed to stretch my legs, I feel like I’ve been anchored to that bed for years.”

Jack’s smile abruptly disappeared. Did Ianto know he’d been dead for over a year? Did he remember anything of the darkness? Jack rolled off the bed not because of the nurses disapproving eye but because he needed to stretch himself as well.

“When can he come home, nurse?” Jack asked, flashing her his best film star smile.

“We’ll see what the doctor says after rounds this morning,” she replied, settling Ianto back in the bed. “Now, do you feel up to trying some cereal for breakfast? And tea or coffee?”

“Tea please,” Ianto replied, causing Jack to do a double take.

“Would you like a cup?” she asked Jack.

“Coffee please.”

When she’d gone Jack leaned over Ianto and asked anxiously,

“Are you feeling OK?”

Ianto snorted. “You tasted the coffee in these places? Tea is the safer bet.” After a pause he asked, “We’re not in Cardiff, are we?”

Jack shook his head.

“Torchwood?”

“Not sure, I’ve been away for a while.”

Ianto looked at him and frowned.

“You left Earth again, didn’t you?”

Miserably Jack nodded, his eyes becoming shiny.

“I couldn’t stay here, not without you.”

Ianto started stroking his hair again thinking

“Gwen’s still here. That is right, isn’t it? Yes, yes of course it is,” Ianto said, answering his own question. He went quiet for a few minutes before asking, “You were away for over six months, weren’t you?”

“How did you…”

“I can sort of remember some things, other things are quite blurry.”

Patiently Jack waited for Ianto to continue but he didn’t. Then the nurse returned with drinks and food for Ianto, which Jack fed him, spoonful by spoonful.

Five days later, after much begging and pleading by both Ianto and Jack, Ianto was discharged from hospital with strict instructions to keep up with a healthy diet and to take plenty of bed rest. Jack had taken it as read that John’s flat would be used for Ianto’s recuperation. Ianto couldn’t exactly go back to his sister’s place to recover.

The bed rest part sounded wonderful to both men, unfortunately Ianto’s body had other ideas. It was still healing and needed him to spend a large proportion of his time sleeping. After the third time, in as many days, Ianto had nodded off after trying to initiate sex, Jack got the message. 

A while later Ianto was woken by the sounds of raised voices in the lounge. Struggling out of bed he made his way towards the angry sounds.

Jack was white with rage, brandishing a newspaper in John’s face. He was snarling at the other man.

“You’re to blame for the state he’s in. You bloody near killed him, again!”

“I was here when you weren’t so don’t get holier than thou on me. I got him out before he suffocated,” John shouted back.

“You drowned him! That’s why he’s got double pneumonia, his first breaths were of heavily infected water.”

“Jack?” Ianto said. “What is going on?” 

Jack stopped shouting and came across to help him into the room.

“Ianto, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

When Jack had helped him to the couch, he asked again,

”What’s going on?”

Jack closed his eyes, unwilling to bring up what must have been a terrifying experience for Ianto, even though he’d never spoken of it.

Seeing his chance, Ianto quickly took the paper from Jack’s grasp looked at the picture and started reading.

“Thirty Eight Bodies Still Missing!” the headline screamed. Underneath a photo of a decimated graveyard dominated the page. He glanced up at Jack then continued to read:-

“Experts have recovered the remains of over two hundred people who were washed out of their graves by the unprecedented storm two weeks ago. The remaining thirty eight may never be recovered. In virtually all cases the bodies had been buried for several decades and, in all probability, were totally decomposed. It’s thought the few bodies from the more recent burials were washed out into the sea via the estuary.”

Ianto looked back at the photo caption, the name of the cemetery struck a chord. Of course, Torchwood had several plots there.

Ianto half-remembered a feeling of being borne along on a wet, dark wave of something. Sharp objects and heavy objects flying past him, some glancing off him others batting into him and pushing him about. It wasn’t much of a memory. The next thing he remembered was lovely warm water and someone rubbing a sponge over him covered in pleasant smelling soap. A voice droning on and trying to make conversation when all Ianto wanted to do was sleep because his whole body was one giant ache. He looked at John, half remembering all the care he had taken of him.

“Ianto?” Captain John said.

“You. You spent ages cleaning me up in the shower.”

The argument, the paper and his memories suddenly reorganised themselves to make a picture.

“It wasn’t a dream, was it? I really died?”

Jack sniffed and nodded sadly.

“You buried me?”

He nodded again. “I tried to bring you back Ianto, so many times I tried but it didn’t work.”

John looked confused, his head looking between the two of them as if he were at a tennis match.

Ianto looked at John, asking a question without opening his mouth.

“Panicked call, dig you up before you suffocated down there,” he shrugged.

“So he diverted the damned river through the graveyard instead of using a shovel,” Jack snarled.

John turned away and closed his eyes.

“It was a rift storm, been going on for days. Thought it would look less suspicious if a few got washed out instead of just one dug up. Sorry Eye Candy.”

Ianto stood up and patted his shoulder companionably.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time?”

John smiled and nodded.

Ianto laughed.

“That’s something he would have done in the past. Thank you for getting me out and cleaning me up. The clean up is definitely appreciated.”

“If you’d be been more with it, we could have enjoyed getting dirty again,” John replied, definitely in flirt mode.

Jack growled. There was no other way of describing the sound he made, it was a growl.

“Hey! I’m only flirting. There was a time when you used to play nicely with the other kids.”

“You don’t get to play with him,” Jack stated firmly.

“Down boy,” Ianto said mildly, holding out his hand to Jack. 

Jack took him back to their room and fussed around Ianto, getting him back into bed and straightening the covers.

“Don’t know why you’re bothering to do that. We’re just going to mess them up again.”

Jack’s expression brightened then looked wary again. Ianto could read him as easily as he’d read the newspaper. Lust, delight at the prospect of making love, worry that his lover was still too ill.

“Get your clothes off Harkness and get into bed!” he ordered taking the responsibility.

Jack had never obeyed an order so fast in his life.

 

Boneless with repletion Ianto drifted on the afterglow. He pulled Jack’s arms tighter around himself. Jack kissed the top of his shoulder, his chest plastered along Ianto’s back.

One second it was total relaxation the next Ianto could feel waves of trepidation flowing from Jack.

“What?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t pretend Jack, you’re worried for me. You want to know something.”

“How did you….”

“What do you want to know?” Ianto asked, cutting him off.

“How bad was it? Do you remember any of it?” Jack asked quietly. “You don’t seem to want to talk about it.”

He didn’t have to elaborate, Ianto knew what he meant.

“It’s fading but I remember a lot of it.”

Jack tightened his hug in sympathy. He knew how awful the blackness, the fear, the nothingness was. He only had to put up with it for minutes, days at the most. Ianto had been dead for over a year.

“It was …nice.”

Jack leaned over him, amazed.

“It was! I felt…warm, loved, cared for. I missed you but I got to spend time with other people I’ve known. I also got to meet a lovely kid called Steven.”

Jack stiffened and went still.

“I didn’t see the blackness, or if I did I don’t remember it. Although they wouldn’t let me come back until I needed to, it would have been too painful.”

“Who’s they?”

“Beings who answer all your questions. Hard to explain. Don’t think they’re people. Don’t think they’ve ever been people.”

“And you trusted these beings, despite all the aliens you’ve encountered here?”

Ianto turned over in the circle of his arms and smiled in the half light at Jack. He draped his arms around Jack’s neck and nuzzled in for a kiss.

“I’d trust them with the most important thing I have.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your life.”

There wasn’t a trace of levity in Ianto’s expression now. He continued speaking, 

“I know who Steven is, and I know what happened to him too. All this stuff in my head that I thought were weird dreams aren’t, they’re memories.”

“You know about Steven and you still want to be with me?”

“I don’t want to walk away Jack. That was you doing what I asked you to, fight back. Steven understands, your daughter doesn’t, she’ll hate you for that until she dies but we understand why.”

Jack looked at Ianto, this new Ianto. To have him back was the most precious gift he could imagine. It might be his imagination but this Ianto seemed to be very tuned into what he was thinking, under some circumstances that could be a bad thing but under others it would be sensational.

“Can I ask you something?” Ianto said.

“Of course.”

”Am I like you now or is coming back just a one off?”

Jack shook his head.

“I don’t know Ianto, I just don’t know.”

He was silent for a couple of minutes digesting the information.

“No Torchwood, no Hub, no team. What are we going to do now?”

Jack thought for a few seconds before he asked,

“Have you ever been to Italy?”


End file.
